The email landed as my eyes were locked on my inbox.

It was from Jake, a friend and former co-worker. His message arrives every year in the first week of March. And each year, he wants to take money out of my pocket.

For the 13th straight year, Jake administered his NCAA Tournament Player Draft. I’m a former two-time winner, which only inflates my confidence to an irrational level, given I have no control over the outcome. But the format is fun, and bragging rights are always nice.

The way it works is each participant drafts eight players from the men’s tournament field. As they score points in their tournament games, you accumulate points in the pool. The players’ points is the only stat tracked. The participant with the most cumulative points takes the pot. It’s winner-take-all.

To add difficulty, Jake has a few draft rules. Picks 1 through 5 can come from any team but must comprise at least two guards and two forwards. Pick 6 must come from a team seeded 8 through 10. Pick 7 must come from a team seeded 11 through 13. And the eighth and final pick must come from a team seeded 14 through 16.

The entry fee: $30.

Fifteen people participated this year, which made for an easy $420 profit for the winner.

But I took myself out of the running.

I am not a gambler. I despise losing my hard-earned money, and I’m just not any good at it. Betting lines are above my head. Cards confuse me. Spreads make even less sense.

I consider myself lucky. Gambling, thanks to the legalization and proliferation of sports betting, has gone wild. It’s not just something you do in Las Vegas or Atlantic City anymore. Pocket money previously reserved for “March Madness” has a new calling, the all-too dangerous and year-round “Daily Fantasy.”

Casinos have long been popping up all over the country. But with technology, you don’t have to go anywhere. You can place bets from your couch. All it takes is an app and a few clicks. Statistics show I fall in the most vulnerable 26-55 age group of sports betting and fantasy app users in the United States.

But none of it excites me anymore, not fantasy football or fantasy basketball, not Blackjack or Roulette. Now that I’m learning better uses for my money, I especially don’t need the thrill of betting. My rush comes from saving and investing.

When it comes to gambling, losses hurt me more than winnings ever help me. Both monetarily and emotionally. In terms of risk analysis, that’s pretty rotten. I cannot, in good conscience, both recognize that toll and repeatedly take risks betting.

My mission is to be intentional with my money, to assign every dollar a purpose and reserve most for accumulating assets.

I liken passing on Jake’s player pool to my decision to turn down buying my daughter Parker’s Girl Scouts cookies this year. Remember that price tag? For four boxes, the minimum delivery order, plus shipping and handling, I would have paid $32.99 for cookies I did not want and do not need.

But by passing on Parker’s cookies and Jake’s tournament tradition, I saved $62.99 in the same week, simply by making two sensible decisions.

I think you already know where that money went.

Darnell Mayberry is a sportswriter based in Chicago and is the author of “100 Things Thunder Fans Should Know & Do Before They Die.” He loves his daughter Parker, money and the Minnesota Vikings. You will find his column, Money Talks, each Saturday on cleveland.com and Sundays in The Plain Dealer.